In the Deep End
by Spatix
Summary: Tim Drake has to be good at everything. It probably stems from the years of childhood neglect followed by years of having to live up to impossible standards. Losing himself to this - to him - well, failure is not an option.


**Chapter One**

Tim Drake stood on the ledge of Wayne Enterprises looking down at the bustling city below. The lights from the city shined in golds and whites as the Gotham nightlife was beginning to go in full swing. He could hear the buzz of conversations being had as hundreds of people went out for drinks and laughed with their friends and had fun after a long day. He doubted even Superman could pick out the individual conversations this high above the city.

The sudden sound of sirens going off in the distance jerked him away from the scene below his feet. He looked out over the Gotham horizon and noticed how the bright lights below faded into darkness away from the high profile downtown glam that surrounded Wayne Enterprises.

He wondered briefly if it was Jason who had the police racing once again into the darkness, going after a criminal who would just wind up back on the streets, even angrier and smarter than they were before. It still made him uncomfortable to think of Jason Todd as a criminal, the boy he had admired and hero-worshipped before he was brutally murdered at the hands of the Joker - and his own mother to an extent, but he knew better than to voice that opinion. Still, he wasn't naive and he definitely wasn't stupid, the Jason he looked up to was dead and the one here now was deadly and vengeful.

Still, though, it was unlikely the Red Hood had caused that much attention without Batman knowing. Batman was always hyperaware of what the Red Hood was up to, even after he had promised to take a step back if his dead son promised to stop killing, which, according to Jason, just meant to be more discreet about where he hid the bodies. Baby steps.

He hadn't heard from him in weeks, something he was grateful for. He spent too much of his time dodging bullets and machetes, he didn't need to worry about having his throat sliced open as he walked around on patrol.

The sirens faded as the police cars drove deeper into the city until Tim wasn't sure if the ringing in his ears he heard was from the sirens or not. He sat down, allowing himself a short break, and swung his legs over the edge of the building.

He thought of his eldest brother who would often hold contests to see who could do the best trick on the ledge of a building. The first time Tim participated he lost his balance and fell backwards into a dumpster two stories down. When Bruce found out how he almost broke his wrist, he put his head in his hands and sighed. Then he grounded him and Dick for being reckless idiots and forbade them from ever doing it again.

Still, of all his brothers, Dick was the one he was closest to. Which wasn't saying much, considering that the other two had actually attempted to kill him, but he was a good person who cared about Tim and actually showed it. He knew his admiration and love for his older brother wasn't reciprocated, a least not in the same way. Tim revered Dick. And it wasn't his fault, Dick was just able to make people like him without even trying.

Tim had the opposite problem. He could just sit at the island eating breakfast and he'd have two knives at his throat. Jason's unbridled murderous hatred for him - which had dwindled in the past few months luckily - was at least backed by his contorted rage regarding his own murder and his complicated relationship with Batman. His little brother, though, - God, he hated saying that - was another story.

When he first heard Bruce had an actual biological son, Tim was blindsided. That didn't happen often. He prided himself on expecting anything and everything, he had a plan for every scenario he could think of and then more. He had just never thought of Bruce Wayne actually fathering a child. He was wary, at first, it wouldn't be the first time someone claimed the billionaire had fathered their child, but Bruce was adamant that this one was his. He wasn't sure what had Bruce so sure until he came face-to-face with what appeared to be a 10-year old old Bruce Wayne and found out his mother was Talia al Ghul. Tim didn't know what went through Bruce's head when he decided to get with Talia, but he guessed it didn't matter now. He supposed being raised by and as an assassin, he should've suspected that the kid would be violent, but he wasn't expecting this personal vendetta against him.

Damian hated a lot of people, no, that wasn't true. Damian didn't trust a lot of people, he didn't even see most people as actual people. He saw things objectively, personal feelings and attachments were rare, but apparently not when it came to him. At this point it wasn't even objective. Damian just truly wanted him dead and gone. And by his hands. Tim suspected jealousy at first, for having been taking under Bruce Wayne's wing and given a home despite now being related to him biologically, but Damian did not have the same reactions to Dick or Jason - well, technically Jason faced Damian's wrath, but that was because Jason made it his life's mission to fuck over Bruce. He found out later from Dick that Damian was less than thrilled that he was not Robin, but now Damian was Robin and he still wanted him gone.

He wasn't particularly hurt that Damian despised him, hell the feeling was mutual, but it left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. It hit too close to home. He felt like an outsider in his own home once again, cast aside and forgotten. He supposed he was being melodramatic, but Bruce was never particularly good at either showing affection or giving attention, but he latched onto Damian so quickly and easily that it shocked Tim, (everything seemed to surprise him now it seemed). Dick, like the good older brother and Samaritan that he was, took it upon himself to real in the homicidal child and teach him how to function in the real world. For the first time, Tim didn't have the full attention of his heroes and, if he was being truly honest, it was crushing.

He was used to it, and he would never mention it to anyone, but the dark thoughts that hadn't reared their ugly heads in years were beginning to worm their way back, muttering that he simply wasn't wanted anymore. He knew, he knew, he was being ridiculous, but here he was. Sitting on top of Wayne Enterprise feeling sorry for himself. That thought made him bitter.

Tim began to roll a loose pebble beneath his thumb absentmindedly. If he was going to sulk like this he wasn't going to do it anywhere he'd get caught. He didn't usually let himself feel that way, it never left him feeling better and only allowed the bad thoughts to creep in more easily, but tonight he was alone for once.

He didn't even mean for this to happen. He spent the early part of the evening breaking up drug deals and dealing with thugs who stole a little old lady's purse, but otherwise it was a rather quiet night and he decided to rest until Barbara let him know when he'd be needed next. So, he ended up at his favorite view of the city.

This was the first place Batman took him as Robin. He was showing him the city, how big it was and how small they were and he explained to him that it was impossible to save everyone - looking back was he thinking about Jason? - but the city was a life force and a survivor. Tim had nodded at the time and called him Mufasa. Batman didn't think it was funny.

The people far below were still enjoying the night scene, bustling about like ants always going, going, going. It made Tim exhausted just looking at them. He never understood the appeal of drinking yourself into oblivion to forget your own problems and the problems of the world.

"Red Robin, I'm checking the security footage by the docks," came the timely voice of Barbara Gordon in his ear. Her clear voice continued, "About 15 people just pulled up in three tinted minivans. I've checked the records and nobody is scheduled to work there tonight outside of the three that are currently on duty. No evidence of criminal activity, but you might want to check it out."

The masked hero pulled himself up and began to descend the tallest building in Gotham before he answered, "On my way."

—

Red Robin was confident in his ability to take down the group at the docks, the hard part it turned out was waiting for incriminating evidence. If it weren't for the fact that they were all standing around the docks at night clad in all black, he wouldn't think they were up to anything suspicious. There were no laws against just standing around talking about the football game last night and he didn't have a good enough reason to start beating the shit out of the people without sounding like bloodthirsty mad man to Bruce or Commissioner Gordon.

So he waited. And waited. And waited.

He sat perched in the rafters in one of the warehouses listening to the echoed words of the strange group below him. Their conversation was so dull that it was almost enough to put him to sleep.

His eyelids were getting heavy when the unmistakable bone-chilling laugh from the Joker rang out. Immediately all conversation stopped and they all turned their heads in the direction of the doorway.

"Well, well, well look-y what we have here! My boys how you all doin' on this fine day? Night? Yeah, it is quite dark out now, isn't it?" The Joker's voice continuously got louder until the painted man was in view.

Tim wanted nothing more than to call up Batman or Nightwing or even Red Hood to come help, but he wasn't - couldn't - risk being heard so he crouched down deeper into a ball, trying to control his breathing as best as he could, but there was nothing he could do about the pounding in his chest, or the sudden horrific images that flashed through his mind's eye.

No enemy of Gotham made Tim feel this way. Nearly four years had passed, but looking at the crazed man now almost made his heart stop.

"...Robin? Please respond." Barbara's sweet voice pulled Tim away from the scene unfolding below him. Her voice usually so calm and steady had a hint of worry. She must see him on the cameras.

He placed a shaky hand up to his ear and responded with the calmest voice he could muster, "I'm fine." He wasn't fine, he was far from fine, but if the Joker was directly involved this was something he couldn't afford to chicken out of. He needed to shake off these childish reactions and be Red Robin.

"I've contacted Batman, he's en route. I'll let you know when he's nearby." He didn't bother answering. Tim for once was grateful that the Bat was being called. He wasn't confident he could take the clown down by himself, even without being outnumbered 16-1. The woman on the other end went silent and he did his best to get his Robin instincts up and running.

He kept his eyes glued to the clown. If his legs would stop shaking he could probably leap to the wooden beam across from him, then he'd be almost directly above the Joker, but he learned years ago to never underestimate him. If he slipped, if he landed wrong, if he made any noise that would alert the Joker to him then he would lose his only advantage. Still, it wasn't often that he had the chance to truly surprise him.

"...yes, yes, yes! Oh my wonderful new friends this is splendid!"

Perhaps what startled Tim the most about this meeting was the fact that the Joker was working with others. He was notorious for working by himself or using others for a job or two before gruesomely killing them, but never this many people and never meeting at a place so open. The Joker liked his cells and alleyways but this warehouse was on the docks and rather empty except for a few crates in the corner. It just wasn't adding up

The Joker leaned up against his cane, his notorious wild grin stretched across his face, "Now, now we need to get down to business, don't we? I sure don't have all night, and I'm sure you lovely folks need to go home to your dear snot-nosed kids. So," his voice got deeper, more sinister, "let's get started." The silence that followed was deafening, surely they could hear him borderline hyperventilating. Then, from deep in the clown's chest rose a slow laugh that gradually got louder and more wild until he was doubled over with laughter, gasping for breath.

He managed to regain his composure, wiping away a tear from his eye. "Okay, but really we need to begin." He lifted his cane and pointed it at middle-aged man, "You. Step forward."

Tim eyed the man the Joker had picked out from the crowd. He was...ordinary. Extremely ordinary. He had a well-trimmed beard, styled hair, and a little bit of a gut. He lacked the tattoos, the wild eyes, the scars that Tim normally associated with those ran who ran around with the likes of the Joker. Besides the all black ensemble, he looked as if he just got off work at a typical 9-5 job. Tim looked around and saw that the rest of the group seemed to be that way too. They didn't look like fighters or thieves just regular people. So then why were they here? Why were they working with the Joker?

"You-you see Mr. Joker," the man stuttered out, "I tried my best, I really did."

"Oh boy, oh boy! I don't think I'm going to like what I'm about to hear!" The mad man jumped in. Tim didn't have to see his eyes to know that they were blazing with an uncontrollable rage.

He could actually see the man trembling in fear. "I-I couldn't get the, uh, the, um, the-the blueprints. I don't have clearance and when I, uh, tried to get it I had my supervisor threatening to fire me."

A long tension-filled silence encompassed the warehouse. A deep frown appeared on the Joker's face, "Hmm, well boy-o, you sure proved me right, didn't you? So answer me this: is your supervisor scarier than I am?" He was now leaning into the man so close that their noses almost touched.

"No, no sir."

"Is your supervisor meaner than I am?"

"No," his voice was laced with pure fear, but Tim knew he couldn't afford to jump into this now. He needed to know why the Joker was using these people. What blueprints? What did they have that the Joker wanted so badly?

"And does your supervisor enjoy blowing the brains out of his employees?"

The man was now refusing to look the clown in his eyes, shuffling from foot to foot. "I would have to say no," his voice was so quiet Tim had to lean in to hear.

The Joker threw his hands in the air and pivoted around, "Oh well here we have it, folks! The joke is on me tonight!This pathetic excuse for a human being could not get the one thing I asked for. The one thing! You see, I like jokes. I love jokes." A deep cold settled in his stomach, something bad was about to happen. Joker's voice deepened to a sinister growl, "But I don't like being the punchline."

Red Robin saw the knife before his unsuspecting victim could, he bit his tongue and waited for the horror that was sure to come.

The Joker gripped the knife and before he could even blink, he spun around and slashed the man's throat. Blood splattered across the clown's face and across the floors and walls. It didn't even look real. It sprouted like water from a fountain, a thick bright red mess. Guttural sounds came from the man as he choked on his own blood. He grasped desperately at his throat attempting in vain to stop the bleeding, but the wound was too deep and he was losing blood too fast. His legs gave out and he fell to the concrete floor. Blood continued to seep from the wound, creating a large pool beneath him. The man was dead before he hit the ground.

The fourteen other people truly looked shocked, murmuring their horror beneath their breaths. Did they truly know nothing about the Joker? He did not deal in thinly-veiled threats, but lies, deception, and death.

"Red Robin? Did you see that?" Oracle's voice whispered in his ear. He didn't respond.

The Joker wiped the blood from his knife onto his jacket leaving a red streak, examined it, and then threw it in the air before catching it with his teeth.

Red Robin knew he was running out of time, he doubted these people had succeeded with whatever inane task the crazed clown had given them. But his feet felt like lead and his mind was drawing blanks as true fear began to set in.

That voice, that truly horrible voice, the laughter, the weapons. He didn't want to remember, but now he couldn't stop the familiar images flashing across his mind, the pain he felt, the weight of the gun...

"Batman ETA six minutes," Oracle's familiar voice came through the comm. Batman was that far away? So much could happen in a short amount time.

The Joker was oblivious to the dilemma 30 feet above him as he removed the knife from his mouth, thumbing the blade with an almost bored expression. His attention returned to the crowd in front of him, "I do not like being disappointed." He paused, his voice unusually steady and flat. "Now, lets continue." He pointed to a woman with blonde hair and thick glasses, "You. Yes, you. Come here," he said when she looked around in horror.

She stepped up tentatively, the sound of her shaking heels echoing loudly.

"What's your name, dearie?" He reached out and gripped her chin, turning her head from side to side.

The true fear that radiated from her very being made Red Robin's stomach drop. He was supposed to be a superhero, he needed to save her. He should have saved the man before her, but he didn't. Couldn't. Wouldn't.

"Katie," she said, but her voice was so soft he wasn't sure if that was what she said.

He should have done something. That man did not deserve to die, not like that. He reached behind him and with shaking hands he grabbed his staff. He needed to be Red Robin not Tim Drake.

The soft stuttering voice of the woman brought his attention back to the scene below him. "Please, please, I'm so sorry!" She begged. She was outright sobbing as the Joker grabbed her collar and pulled her face close to his.

"You do have such a beautiful face," he muttered. He grazed his gloved hand across her face and she visibly flinched back at the contact. "It will be fun to watch you die."

A sharp intake of breath and then a loud sharp bang. The young woman gasped and looked down at her stomach to see her shirt rapidly being stained by the gunshot wound.

She stumbled and then collapsed to the ground clutching her stomach. The thirteen unharmed men and women began to back towards the doorway behind them.

"Jesus," the Oracle breathed. "Red Robin where the hell are you?" He didn't have time to explain that he needed to know why the Joker was here. Why he was using these people. The Joker only talked when he wanted to, he needed to wait. He just needed a bit more time.

"No! No! You can't leave! Not until Batman is here!" He waved the pistol he had retrieved from his coat into the air, letting off two more rounds. One entered the roof only a foot away from where Red Robin was crouched, trying to move, trying to do something, but he was paralyzed with fear and he could do nothing but watch.

"Let's play a game now. I'm bored. You all have 30 seconds to decide who will die next. Don't come to a decision? Everyone dies!" He paused. "It's a win-win! For me, at least."

Red Robin frowned. Why would he kill someone if he needed something from them?

Several moments passed as the group of strangers stood in horrified silence before one man with thinning hair and big eyes pointed a spindly finger at a bigger man, exclaiming loudly, "Him! I choose him! I heard him talking he doesn't have no kids. I got a family to feed. No one'll miss him."

Before Red Robin could process what happened, everyone else began to point to the big man who looked around as their betrayals piled on.

"No, no, no, no. Fuck this. Fuck you guys. I'm not dying for this!" The man spun around and, as fast as he could, began running to the exit.

The Joker clapped his hands together and let out a gleeful laugh. "Oh yes, yes, yes! We have a runner. This is going to be a fun night indeed!" The mad man put two fingers into his mouth and a loud sharp whistle burst out.

A moment passed, then two. Nothing happened, a loud "oh fuck" cut through the air, and then there was chaos. Absolute chaos.

The windows shattered as bullets sprayed in through the eastern warehouse windows. Screams of surprise were cut short as the bullets ripped through the crowd. They looked like puppets as their bodies were jarred and whipped around by the bullets. Limbs, blood, and bone flew through the air and bodies fell to the ground. The bullets continued to fire for ten seconds after the last body fell, but they were now only hitting the stone wall on the far side.

"Alright, alright enough!" The Joker yelled above the deafening roar of the guns outside. They came to a stop and Red Robin watched as the clown stormed outside with his hands in the air obviously angry at something. When he left his line of sight, Red Robin hesitantly turned his attention to the disfigured bodies below.

One person had been hit at least half a dozen times in the face that it was impossible to distinguish any distinct facial features, it was just a bowl of bone, blood, and tissue. Several people were missing hands, most likely from holding their hands to cover their faces, one was missing an entire arm. One man had turned his body away from the onslaught of bullets and ended up with an abdomen torn open and his guts spilled out on the ground. He counted seven people who had their brains completely blown out. The blood spilled beneath them into one giant pool of red.

Horrified was not a strong enough word for what he was feeling. Anger, rage, disgust. His panic was replaced with adrenaline, he took a deep breath, and jumped.

He rolled into his quiet landing, staying crouched enough so that he wouldn't be seen by anyone outside, but the voices he heard were distant enough to not give him worry. At least not yet.

Red Robin grabbed his staff and held it at his side. He needed to be quick when the Joker walked back in. He took another step towards the door and then:

"Help."

It was so faint that he wasn't even sure he'd heard it until he turned his head and his eyes locked with someone's brown ones.

Tim has been around enough bodies to know what the eyes of the dead looked like. They were glossed over and just orbs of color staring into an abyss. But these were full of anguish. Pain, fear, desperation. The person opened their mouth again but only blood came out.

Red Robin didn't realize he was moving until he had reached them. He could count at least three bullets in their upper chest. They weren't going to make it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I can't help you." Tears welled up and spilled down their cheeks. "Please, I need to know why you are here. Why you, why the Joker?"

They reached out with a mangled hand and grabbed the collar of his suit, "One, seven, three." A hoarse breath in, "Maple Leaf Road."

An address. "Thank you," he said, and he meant it.

The person's breaths became more and more labored and they clenched his suit even tighter. "You don't have to be afraid anymore," he said, trying his best to comfort the dying person in front of him. Their eyes flickered over to the left, and Red Robin felt his blood run cold.

"You're right, he doesn't have to be afraid. But you do." He stood up slowly, gripping his staff before turning around and facing the clown.

Blood was splattered across his entire body, dripping down his clothes, down his face. His maniacal grin was plastered on as he eyed him up and down.

"My boy, it's so great to have you finally join us, but I'm afraid I was hoping for Batsy to join me on this," he raised his arms and spun around in a circle, "beautiful night."

He gripped his staff tighter at the mention of "my boy" as rage flowed through him.

He said through clenched teeth, "I'm afraid you're going to have to deal with me tonight, instead." And then he threw himself at the the Joker.

 **And that concludes the first chapter. This started out as something I started writing at work and here we are! Thanks for reading and let me know if I should continue or not :)**

 **Thank you!**


End file.
